2010-05-03 - Punch Out
A small gym in New York has been scheduled for a strange match, a tiny little unannounced bout between Chibodee Crockett's protege, and another person...a veritable nobody who apparently got into a fight with said protege's brother... Still, its Chibodee Crockett's gym, and its open for an exhibition so a few gawkers have been allowed in to watch... Solis arrived about two hours ago, alone. He's been hovering near the ring, occasionally idly tugging on the ropes, and generally looking uncomfortable in the red robe he's wearing, over the ridiculous blood red shorts. "...what sort of battle attire is this, honestly," he murmurs, before looking up at the clock again. Simon is running late because he's not really looking forward to this. He is a very studious student, he has trained to the best of his capacity and then some ever since he started workin' it with Chibode, which was several months ago. Before that, he had been fighting in a war and taking it to the gym in an effort to impress some girl or another which, well, the girls Simon tend to hang out with are really bad at noticing these things, almost as bad as Simon is about making them obvious. "Hey." He says, approaching the ring, a gym bag over his shoulder. Solis Vivent looks up at Simon, blinking slightly... He recognizes the face and the voice from that fateful day in Siberia...the day that resulted in him being paralyzed for several days afterwards... "...lets get this over with," Solis mutters, a visible sense of venom floating into his voice, "I'm unfamiliar with the procedure however..." Solis does turn, attempting to climb into the ring...but encountering immediate difficulty with the barrier of the ropes surrounding it... He twists them, and turns them, attempts lifting them out of the way...and then finally begins examining the pole to see if there's some sort of toggle, or operational rubric... He turns, speaking through teeth clenched in angry embarassment, he mutters, "...how do you get in the ring?" R. Leonhardt transmits, "So, how is everyone this evening, anyhow?" Solis Vivent transmits, "Soon to be pummeled." Kazuma Ardygun transmits, "Got a first-aid kit with me if needed." Simon doesn't seem to have a lot of remorse for what he did to Solis. Why would he? He grabs one of the ropes and pulls himself over and into the ring. "It's not that complicated." He says, looking over to Solis. "You've never boxed before, though?" He squints, "Am I supposed to teach you or are you, like, going to try something ddifferent?" R. Leonhardt transmits, "Well, ah...have fun, I suppose." Solis Vivent watches Simon's actions and mimics them, climbing into the ring... "No, I have never boxed. I am familiar with the rules... No weapons. The use of only the hands, striking beneath the belt is illegal, and so forth..." He does take the moment to remove the robe, tossing it across the ropes.. It's not likely that a bare chested Solis will be an image girls will want posters of on their walls... Dozens of scars, wounds resembling knife wounds, cuts, burn scars, other abrasions, some only apparently recently healed... Metal appears liberally spaced across him, with a series of ugly looking jacks and plugs lining down his spine...and at the center of his back is a clear scar, resembling a small spiral as if someone took a massive drill to his spinal column. He rolls his head around on his shoulder, eliciting a few cracks. "You will batter me until I am unable to operate, and that is presumably my objective as well, yes?" Solis Vivent transmits, "There is no fun in this." Solis Vivent transmits, "I have to make sure not to kill the boy." R. Leonhardt transmits, "Is that...really that likely?" Kazuma Ardygun transmits, "I can understand Solis being worried. Just don't aim for vital areas, Solis." R. Leonhardt transmits, "You don't have strength modulation?" Solis Vivent transmits, "I wasn't trained to hit lightly." Solis Vivent transmits, "...but more to the point, I can't lose control." R. Leonhardt transmits, "No, I meant...well, I suppose you wouldn't, then." June Shelbech transmits, "...unarmed combat is barbaric." R. Leonhardt transmits, "I was never much of a boxer." R. Leonhardt transmits, "Didn't enjoy it. I prefer a rapier or a blade in my hand, or at the very least a knife." Castilla Shale transmits, "I'd rather he had a chainblade after what that little bastard did to Solis." Kazuma Ardygun transmits, "Huh? What happened?" Castilla Shale transmits, "A combined arms assault against Teppelin. We were engaging the Spiral King. Simon was holding the rear." Castilla Shale transmits, "Something our Rex said aroused Simon's ire...and when the Spiral King assaulted from before, Simon assaulted from behind. The frontal trauma was severe, but the trauma from behind temporarily paralyzed Solis from the waist down." BIG FIRE works with the Divine Crusaders. As an underworld organization whose ONLY GOAL is ABSOLUTE WORLD DOMINATION, they keep to themselves. Usually, the only contact between the two groups is Lord Alberto, also known as Alberto the Shockwave, a mysterious superhuman that also secretly controls the ancient and incredibly wealthy Oil Dollar Society, an energy trading company. This is different. The latest budgetary report has gained the attention of BIG FIRE, which normally pays for a majority of the expenditures without question. The invitation is formally offered via written note. The time of the meeting is suggested to be inflexible. There is no mention of how Haman will be conveyed to the conference, only a time. As she makes preparations, her meeting room is invaded by a suit of red samurai armor draped in a cloak. Silent as a corpse, it spreads one arm. The impeccably suited Lord Alberto steps from the shadows, cigar glowing. "Ah, Lady Haman. It's been so long. I'm afraid our means of conveyance must be, for tonight, the subordinate of one of my associates. I'm sure you've met Ko-Enshaku before." The armor stares. "Please," Alberto gestures. "He's a very taciturn fellow but a wonderful chauffeur." Haman Karn knows of Lord 'Alberto the Shockwave' Alberto 'the Shockwave.' She knows that he represents BIG FIRE. She knows that attempting to get a newtype scan of his brainpan generally results in hearing what sounds like a dog whistle being fed through a broken FM radio. She knows that she does not enjoy his ridiculous hair, although the irony is somewhat lost on her. She also knows that he has a magic teleporting robot and that while Neo Zeon has of course accepted some good-faith contributions from the organization bent on ABSOLUTE WORLD DOMINATION, they are far from being in any sort of financial servitude. Just ask Mashymere 'Space Nazi Krugeraands' Cello. "Lord Alberto," Haman Karn says with a regal nod, forcing her face to remain even and calm as her meeting room is benevolently besieged. "I suppose I should have expected something suitably dramatic. I hope you don't have somewhere too cold in mind. I'm absolutely not dressed for it." Haman Karn, as ever, is dressed as a black and gold fairy princess, crown and all. Waving at some guards to get them to lower their guns, she turns toward Alberto. "Let's make a start, then," she says, in her pristine, regal, well-cultured Zeonic tones. "I expect neither of us takes too kindly to wasted time." And then she follows the Shockwave. R. Leonhardt transmits, "What did Mister Vivent say?" June Shelbech transmits, "Our objective. To destroy Teppelin and kill all who dwelled within, to the last fetid pup." R. Leonhardt observes with all the usual dryness, "Amazing. Who knew people objected to genocide." Castilla Shale transmits, "One does not typically express his disdain by attempting to murder one's own ally in any situation, Leonhardt." "Er," Simon says, slowly. "Not...really. This is just a sparring match, we go at it until we feel like stopping." He's getting second thoughts about it. His body isn't particularly scarred at all, which might indicate that he hasn't been hurt in battle, or that he hasn't had a lot of battles, but these seemingly implied things don't necessarily refer to the truth. "Anyway, we also wear gloves." Simon says, as he works on slipping his on. He seems to have done this a lot. "So--why are you doing this? I mean, Chibodee said I should spar with you but uh--" Kazuma Ardygun is just sitting somewhere near ringside, ignoring the political figures to the best of his ability. He has a first-aid kit sitting next to him on the bench. There is no popcorn in evidence. R. Leonhardt transmits, "While that's true...do you usually listen to anything less than overwhelming force?" R. Leonhardt transmits, "You specifically. Though I must admit you've been getting better." Solis Vivent procures a pair of gloves for himself... He slides them on, peering askance at the wargear he's provided with before looking back at Simon. "Your brother took offense to something I said, Simon...this was Chibodee's suggestion regarding negating the likelihood of anymore...sneak attacks." Solis nods, flexing his hand as best he's able to within the glove, "...I still remember your betrayal before the gates of Teppelin as well, Simon. I would be lying if I did not wish to hit you. Crockett also indicated some strange idea that we would come to an understanding by battering one another. I am unsure as to why he feels this way." Castilla Shale transmits, "He was paralyzed by his own ally! He could've been killed! A sneak attack from the rear!" Castilla Shale transmits, "I still remember him sitting in his chair on the shore when we were all swimm.." R. Leonhardt transmits, "I didn't say Mr. Simon was right." Solis Vivent transmits, "That's enough Castilla." "Hah!" Alberto grins. The guards lower their guns. His teeth grind into his cigar. There is a sense, aside from him being a psychic void, that he would have enjoyed being shot at. Ko-Enshaku lowers his cape. Everything is black. When light returns, they are somewhere else. The armored man melts into the ground like wine being poured. Alberto nurses his smoke. He walks breezily through the crowds gathered for something verging on a celebrity match. It may be a small gym, but names tend to mean something. Haman is allowed to follow him. The member of the MAGNIFICENT TEN offers tickets from his suit jacket when they are requested. He finds a ringside seat. "Have you heard of these people?" He gestures toward the combatants. "Impetuous runts. They are similar to many of the groups sheltered under the Divine Crusader umbrella." Alberto exhales. "Groups that BIG FIRE graciously funds." "Sneak attacks?" Simon says, "Huh. Well, you know, so long as you threaten innocent people, I'm not gonna be worrying about what angle I drill y'from." He reddens a little bit, not having expected people to actually show up and watch. "Anyway, it's not cool to say hurtful things to people." He tightens his gloves, punches his fists, and says, "Okay, ready when you are." His posture is relaxed but at the ready. Solis Vivent mutters, "No, but its apparently 'cool' to ram drills into their backs, you miscreant!" He does step closer towards Simon.. He's got an awful boxing stance, he's marching almost directly over like a robot... Solis' hand comes back and then drives forward...towards Simon's face, but then the realization strikes him again, and he remembers the battle the other day... He attempts to pull back on the power of his punch, resulting in it becoming even slower and more awkward of a strike then usual... "Mmm, yes, BIG FIRE is quite generous in its dealings with the Divine Crusaders," Regent Haman Karn says coolly as she seats herself next to Alberto. She crosses her legs and rests one hand in her lap, the other coming up to rest a finger lazily against her chin, watching the goings-on in the ring as curiously as if she were Neo Kevin Costner examining the Neo Zapruder film. Or like a monolith watching apes learn to use jawbones to kill each other. Whichever. "I know of the one," Haman says, gesturing toward Solis. "A former Divine Crusader himself. But really, Lord Alberto. Did you honestly request my presence merely to be your date to a boxing match?" Haman says 'boxing match' as if it were an ethnic slur. Clearly, she prefers more refined sports. Axis has the best Neo Cricket team in the galaxy. EARLIER "Norman, hurry up. If my apprentice is going to get beat to hell and back, I'm going to be there," Roger Smith, Paradigm City's Top Negotiator and secret Dominus of Megadeus Big O, complains to no avail. The butler's face is a stoic mask as always as he wipes some engine grease off his hands and onto his apron. "I'm sorry, Master Roger; the engine needed a full overhaul after your last stunt." Roger's face screws up in a grin as he remembers driving over the roofs of Paradigm City, racing one of the city's many 'supervillain' wannabes and the well-meaning but unaware military police to stop a fear ga- "Master Roger?" Norman prods, "The Griffon's ready now." Roger snaps out of his reverie and nods, sliding his keys out of his pocket and sliding his sunglasses onto his face. Somewhere, someone shouts YEAAAAAAAAAAAH! "Don't wait up, Norman. I think I'll be late tonight," Roger observes as he slides into the car and keys it up, blasting out of his garage fast enough to leave a trail. "Very good, sir," Norman observes peacefully, hanging up his apron, "No dinner tonight." And with that, faithful Norman disappears upstairs, to find out where Dorothy's got to and whether or not Solis cleaned the windows before he left. NOW Roger Smith pulls into the parking lot. He's late, he knows, but that's okay - it's fashionable to be late. Dressed in his 'going out' jacket rather than his nice suit, he remains not merely a sharp-dressed man, but a sharp-dressed man with absolutely no sense of taste as he enters the gym. Time to see how good the kid really is... As the boxing match is set up, there is a corner of the room that seems to have a pretty set opinion on things. Much like table of Soccer holigans, the men of Team Gurren watch the boxing match intently and with drink. Thier eyes size up Simon and drill holes through Solis. At the end of the day, Simon was a hero or Solis cheated. These were the only two results in their minds as they kept the beer flowing and the fight song a-going. At the best seat of them all, Kamina said in his usual no shirt, no shoes, no service attire. Over his shoulders as his tattered mantle, hanging over the chair he was seated at. He growls under his breath, downing half of his mug, waiting for the match to begin. Despite the look on his eyes, he didn't look as if he had any doubt that Simon would win this. "SIMON! YOU CAN DO IT! HEY GUYS! THREE CHEERS FOR SIMON!" "SIMON!" "SIMON!" "SIMON!" "BATMAN!" All eyes turn to Kidd, whose had too much to drink. Their looks all told the same story. Kidd would be the one running to get snacks. "You flatter yourself," Alberto says. It is venomous in a polite way. His family has named kings and ruined nations with the power of money. Zeon is some tin-pot dictatorship. Alberto is who spacenoid radicals are thinking of when they rant about 'Earth elite.' 'Shocking' Alberto exhales. He rests his cigar between his fingers on the armrest. It is almost burned down. "I am here on behalf of our organization's ruling council. We do not directly fund your movement, but our coffers have determined a large portion of the Divine Crusader budget." His mechanical eye whirrs briefly. A red light flashes twice. Alberto seems thoughtful. "BIG FIRE has entered into this agreement because it is mutually beneficial. I am here to audit the true gains imparted by the relationship. Since that idealistic fool, Zoldark, died we have increasingly questioned the direction of the partnership." "We would prefer if we could do business with you. Zeon appears to be sensible." "You're not an innocent person, Solis." Simon says, "You're a pilot in a giant robot designed to blow up large areas without any regard for collateral damage." He cringes a little as he hears people chanting his name. "Aw geeze." He mumbles. Simon pivots away from Solis, it's embarrassing to look at after a fashion. That punch was so awkward it looks less like Simon dodged and more that Solis missed. But Simon soon returns the gesture with an expert jab for Solis's chin, keeping his other arm up to protect his face. His stance isn't like a master boxer or anything, he's still an apprentice, but he's one that's been working hard. Compared to someone with no experience at all, well... The blow lands...hard... Solis' head jerks to the side at the strike, but he seems to recover, eyes narrowing slightly.. A part of him tells him the rational thing to do here is to allow Simon to hit him, feign being defeated and call it a day. Another part of him says he wants to hit Simon. A third part reminds him that he should be careful not to KILL Simon when he attacks him... Solis grunts sharply, attempting to clear his head not only of the force of Simon's punch but the inherent mental static that comes with being the sort of screwed up fellow he is... Solis's fist rams out again, this time with the full force behind it despite Sol's best intentions, as Sol steps in closer...his own posture is still brazenly open as if he doesn't mind being struck and it almost seems he's attempting to crowd the somewhat smaller teenager. Fortunately for Simon, Sol's attack is almost entirely about force and not finesse... Unfortunately for Simon, Solis apparently has a lot of force. Haman Karn's chin lifts from its position being grazed by her hand so that her head can turn toward Shocking Alberto. She herself does not appear shocked. Perhaps this is because he is saying things that she might possibly like to hear. Which is certainly /one/ way to earn the Regent's ear. Ignoring the snide comment on flattery -- Haman is, despite being noveau spaceau riche, quite familiar with the social tactics of the elite -- Haman focuses on the important part. "I should hope so," Haman says with a smile, albeit one that is by no means genuine and entirely polite. "Neo Zeon is not a campaign of hate run by a madman, nor an overblown, resource-devouring science experiment, Lord Alberto." Haman is at least polite enough not to name names. "We are a people unto ourselves -- a government, a populace, an economy, a society. A beautiful race, persecuted like any other minority. So I ask you, Lord Alberto -- what do you mean when you speak of 'business?' For Neo Zeon is no mere one-trick pony; that word could carry many meanings." The fortune seems to be doing a lot for Simon. If Solis hits him ONCE, he'll be in trouble, but Simon has been nearly killed by training many times, usually thanks to Kamina. Did you know how faster a giant robot can throw boulders at you? And how accurately? You'd be surprised at how accurate boulders can be flung at you. In a way, Simon is thinking more about the boulders than Chibodee's training here, gestalting the two into his defense. He swoops to the left again, the fist grazing his helmet. He throws two quick jabs, one after the other this time--he seems intent to wear Solis down, make his clumsy (if powerful) strikes easier to deal with. The strikes land again, harsh thuds against Solis' already battered looking body. It elicts a few grunts from Solis and he steps back for a moment, his eyes lock on Simon's, as he attempts to read him... He feels the burning urge again in his heart, that desire to kill, to destroy...and Simon, at least in a way deserves it. Solis responds to the strikes, sending out a few of his own..the power slowing them down... He remembers being in the chair...he remembers the water...the cold soothing water in the Earth Cradle he couldn't partake of... He remembers who was swimming in it. With a snarl he strikes out again, with a punch far stronger then the others, but misses spectacularly... smashing his fist against the turnbuckle...splintering the wood beneath, even as his own hand begins to bleed from the impact. Roger just frowns as Solis gets the living crap beat out of him. He takes a seat, crossing his arms across his chest to watch. Technically, Roger shouldn't really care about Solis's combat ability. It wasn't his job to teach Solis to box people. It was his job to teach Solis to talk to people. At the same time, part of Negotiating (as much as Roger wishes it wasn't) was being able to handle yourself when things go south - as they all-too-often did, even for Paradigm City's best. So Roger sighs and checks his watch. He was missing a good dinner to watch the kid get the crap beat out of him. Hollow. Roger leans back and sighs, a bottled water sliding out of his jacket, the top removed with a brief crack timed eerily to Solis getting punched. Paradigm City's top negotiator relaxes, remembering... Nothing. A flash of memory, of learning to box from someone faceless, and then nothing. Even out of Paradigm... Oh well, Roger decides, taking a swig of the bottle. When memories crop up, you don't pursue them. That's the key to happiness, and Roger Smith's Rule Number One. "Woah!" Simon says, "Holy sh--" He is about to say a /swear word/, but Solis's terrible power rips by him, smashing wood. His eyes widen in terror, his stance shifting a little as he's frightened just by Solis's terrible cyborg strength! "It's SPARRING." He says, not immediately counterattacking, "/Sparring/!" His back is against the ropes. Juku Reimaru transmits, "Don't be afraid of him, KICK HIS ASS." Solis Vivent lets his hand hang at the side, blood dripping from the knuckles... 'Yes, Simon, sparring," he mumbles, "...strike back at me then...defeat me, show me what you have..." He growls, "Or are you too afraid to attack me from the front?! I was fighting for human kind, against those beastmen, against what I thought was a combined foe...and you...you would have killed me, but more then that..because of that, because I couldn't use my legs then...I didn't..." He growls, "DEFEND YOURSELF!" The strikes come out again, not hard to dodge.. And Simon sure as hell better dodge. Solis seems to be less punching them outright throwing his fists...once again trying to get in close to the boy. "You don't understand, Simon, you little miserable bastard! You don't get it! This is what it means to fight for something! It means you risk this! This is my every day!" Except for Solis, the hits usually connect when they're thrown against him. Castilla Shale transmits, "...who are you rooting for?" "I won't bother you with the details." Alberto flicks his cigar to the ground. It disintegrates as it travels. "Nor will I pretend that we are friends. BIG FIRE is willing to shift the budget it has allocated to the Divine Crusaders so that it is more... friendly to Neo Zeon." Alberto reaches into his coat. He withdraws another cigar. It ignites, seemingly by itself, before it reaches his lips. "The MAGNIFICENT TEN feel that Neo Zeon has developed several projects worthy of monetary backing. We wish to bankroll these projects. Your recently acquired Psyco Gundam, Mark Two, is worthy of extensive study in and of itself." The Lord of Impact reaches again into his jacket. This time, Haman is offered a sealed note. "This contains projected expenditures that BIG FIRE is willing to cover for your scientific division. We only ask that repay the favor by devastating the Earth Sphere. Castilla Shale transmits, "...I wish he'd let us come...I can't raise him." Castilla Shale transmits, "Kazuma, is Solis alright" R. Leonhardt transmits, "Honey, who are you rooting for?" June Shelbech mutters, "Its obvious. She's rooting for whoever is beating up our Principle." Simon dodges Solis's punches. It's not really going to be much of a match. He is in a serene state of mind, Solis has activated his super mode with the power of anger. And so, really, he shouldn't be able to hit Simon unless fear overtakes him. But then, as Solis goes in for one last strike, Simon drops his guard. *THOONK!* Solis's fist collides into the side of Simon's head, sending him spiraling out of the boxing arena, he skids across the ground, bounces once, and then lies still, a trail of blood shimmering across the ground where he slid. For a moment, it seems like he might be dead. But the Digger never gives up. He presses his hands against the ground, lifts himself up, and slowly stumbles up into a standing position--temporarily dizzied. He shakes his head, pinches his bleeding nose for a moment, and then says, "I was born underground. Every day, we lived in fear of an eventuality that the world would cave in all of us and kill us all. Every day. My parents were killed by a quake. Later I found out it was because Beastmen were stomping around above ground. My parents died for such a stupid reason." He looks daggers at Solis's eyes. "Since Bro and I got above ground I've been scared of being killed in battle. I'm terrified every time I go out." He, slowly, pulls himself up over the ropes and drops down on the other side of the arena. "So I like to think I have plenty of reason to hate the Beastmen, more than someone who just hates them becasue he was brainwashed by a cult and is desperately finding for something to cling to, desperate to avoid breaking new ground--and reaching for the heavens himself! I attacked you because to me they were an enemy I would have to beat. To you they were a people you had to exterminate, all for the sake of your ego!" And then with a sudden burst of speed--faster than even before, he drills into Solis, his fists slugging for his face, his body--nothing below the belt, he's playing by the rules, but he's not going to give Solis the breather to launch a punch like that again. His freebies are over. Kazuma Ardygun transmits, "Lemme put it this way, Castilla. Even if Solis loses? He's pretty much guaranteed to live through whatever Simon does to him in the ring." Roger's face shifts into a frown. This sounded like Negotiator territory, and that meant that this fight probably wouldn't solve anything. Hatred, lingering hatred, was going to keep floating around...so only one thing to do. Make sure they solve it. "Hey! Solis!" Roger shouts over whatever other noise is there, "Do you hear that? That's what happens when you don't make an effort to understand other people! Listen to him, now! This is your first real test as a Negotiator - handle it! Come to terms!" With that done, Roger sits down, crosses his arms, and relaxes again. Solis growls, and his mouth opens to say something...and thats when the punches come. The blows are withering, knocking him back... Solis turns his head, and there's a fist there...its as if the world briefly becomes the punishing knuckles of Simon the Digger... The world the color of Simon's rapid, blurr like boxing gloves... When Simon is through with his pummeling blows, Solis rocks back and forth... His head spins, and he attempts to raise his arm again...attempting to retain his composure. His mouth moves, blood flooding past swollen lips, "....I didn't.... get to swim ....with her." Solis sets his feet, he swings at Simon, but it's an almost drunken blow...and the force of it pulls Solis off of his own feet, to smash into the mat. Haman Karn accepts the sealed note. She does not open it. That is best done in private, where one has time to examine things carefully, to show it to the accountants and the lawyers and the image consultants and everything else people forget that Zeon has in the course of being its own (mostly) functional military dictatorship. Things don't run just on guns, after all. Or psycommu systems, for that matter. With an elegant smile, the Regent touches the envelope to her chin, like it were a folded fan. She says, positively sweetly: "I'm sure that my people will find nothing wrong with the terms laid out by BIG FIRE, Lord Alberto." Haman's smile becomes something more conspiratorial, crueler. She doesn't assume that she and 'Shocking' Alberto are friends. Far from it. But she recognizes another force like herself when she sees one. "But the condition you put forth is an attractive one, and one that suggests that the interests of BIG FIRE and Neo Zeon may be quite compatible in the scope of a working relationship." Until Neo Zeon pushes things too far in decimating the Earth. But. Haman Karn will burn that bridge when she comes to it. "You shall hear from Axis within twenty-four hours, Lord Alberto. I do not expect the outcome will be unfavorable to you or your organization. Now. Let's watch the savages make a bit of sport, shall we?" Simon is about to take another punch, but Solis mumbles something, stumbles, and starts to fall. Simon raises a hand and tries to steady Solis Vivent, his own calm returning. "Easy there, man." He says, "Who didn't you get to swim with?" Simon can switch modes faster than a character with Mindset on MOTM! "Why can't you swim with her now?" He's too befuddled to get his rage on. Roger, recognizing the signs of the cycle breaking, smirks and takes another sip of his water. Who said you couldn't teach a cult-abused psychopathic genocidal dog a new trick? Well, whoever did had clearly never met Roger Smith. Solis Vivent coughs sharply, blood splattering from his mouth. He stumbles back away from Simon, setting his jaw, his fuzzy vision being forced back into focus.. Solis pushes through the pain, forcing his brain back into operation... He bites out, "Its not important... Its not important..." He draws his fist up, "...I could've pretended, Simon...just for a minute...I could've pretended and you took it from me... You and that damned drill...you...you took it from me! I hate you Solis... I hate you!!!" He strikes out again, but its another almost drunken stumble...the intent is there, but not the force... Okay, apparently he's wrong. It happens. Even Roger Smith can't be right /all/ the time. He's not /Batman/ or anything. R. Leonhardt transmits, "So how's the fight going?" Castilla Shale transmits, "No idea, I can't raise Solis." Alberto has completed his task. His involvement with Haman Karn begins and ends there. His cigar burns. "I don't care for amateurs like these. This meeting was specifically for social purposes." The member of the Expert rises, moving past Haman. "Good evening, Lady Karn." He leaves, followed by the confusion of such a well dressed man was around for in the first place. Simon pushes Solis's hand down, "It's over man." He says. He is well aware that he's an amateur in terms of fist fighting. If Alberto jumped down here now he'd be a sitting duck. "I'm gonna take you to a chair so you can get some rest, or something." He's more worried about Solis hurting himself than Solis hurting himself at the moment. Solis Vivent coughs sharply, "Its not...its not over...." He staggers back again, "To the last....man and the last shell..." He is however somewhat easilly led. Operational is one thing, completely functional is another. Roger's frown deepens to the point where his jawline is actually more pointed than his freakish eyebrows. He stands up, moving to attend to his apprentice with a bit of a sigh. "Solis," he says by way of greeting. Simon leads Solis to a chair and nods to Roger. "I'm gonna get some ice." He heads off to do just that. Solis Vivent is seated in the chair, and shakes his head, still attempting to clear it and then...Roger Smith is there... He peers increduously at Roger, "...Mr. Smith....I think I...lost..." He slumps back against the chair. "Pretty badly," Roger agrees, sliding his hand into his pocket and tossing the bottled water (what's left of it) into Solis's lap. "But you broke the cycle, or your opponent had the good sense to break the cycle, before the hate continued. That kid's pretty impressive." He jerks his thumb at Simon. "Did you hear what he said, Solis? Did you hear why he was angry, and did you understand? Did you connect with his feelings, or just his fist?" Roger adjusts his sunglasses, waiting for an answer. Solis Vivent murmurs to Roger, blinking slightly, "...I think...part of it...." Battering at that thick skull seems to have some good effects, the question is whether it'll take... Category:Logs